


If We Could Only Turn Back Time

by Llama1412



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Background Relationships, Becoming a Witcher is not a fun time, Child Abandonment, Established Relationship, Families of Choice, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Multi, Post-Canon, Whump, big sister Ciri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25056862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama1412/pseuds/Llama1412
Summary: When Geralt gets hit by a curse that turns him into a child, Yennefer, Jaskier, and Ciri are rather at a loss for what to do. Things get worse as Geralt slowly ages each day under the curse, and each night, he is plagued by nightmares of the memories from that time in his life. They knew that becoming a Witcher hadn't been something Geralt had chosen, but seeing the immediate evidence of the trauma Geralt has been through is more than any of them were prepared for.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 34
Kudos: 106





	If We Could Only Turn Back Time

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this AU idea rolling around for ages, but Geralt Whump Week's Day 3 prompt of "Cursed" finally drove me to start writing it! This is set a couple of years after the show canon, so Ciri is partially trained as a witcher.

Yennefer was too slow to block the curse, and she watched with horror as it hit Geralt dead-on. The Witcher made a surprised sound and his body seemed to pulse with light for long moments before the light grew so blinding she had to turn away.

When the light faded, the mage they had been tracking was gone, and where Geralt had been, there was a young boy with curly brown hair and a dazed expression wearing oversized black armor that slipped down his shoulders.

“Geralt?” Ciri called tentatively, her silver blade held loosely in her grip. She had been fighting the hounds the mage had summoned to hold them off, but now she gaped openly at the boy.

Yennefer couldn’t blame her. She was having trouble getting her jaw to work herself.

The boy blinked up at them, and then yawned widely, jaw cracking. Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hand, he sniffed and then asked in a cheery voice. “Are you here to see Ma?”

Before Yennefer could contemplate  _ that _ minefield, the boy continued. “You’re in luck! She’s the best healer there is!”

“Your mom is a healer?” Ciri asked, voice slightly strangled. It must have been especially odd for her to see the man who had helped to raise her the past few years as – well, as an ordinary young boy.

Geralt had never been someone Yennefer had thought of as ordinary, but she supposed he must have been once. Long ago, before he’d become a Witcher without a choice.

“Yep!” The boy bounced to his feet, not seeming to notice the heavy armor that slipped down his too-small shoulders. “Her magic is the best! It’ll have you good as new in no time!”

“That’s good to hear,” Yennefer pulled herself together enough to say. “Your mother actually left you with us while she runs a few errands. I’m Yennefer, and that’s Ciri. Why don’t you come with us back to camp and we can get you some food?”

“Okay,” the boy shrugged, entirely unconcerned. At least that likely meant his life had been unthreatened up to this point.

Unfortunately, she knew that couldn’t have lasted long. Geralt had told them – Ciri was the first Witcher to ever choose to become one, and even then, she never underwent the mutations that Geralt had only ever spoken of in hushed tones. 

It broke Yennefer’s heart, to know that if life had been kinder, Geralt could have had a normal, happy life. 

They made their way back across the grassy knoll to where Jaskier was composing in their camp. She knew Jaskier was composing, because she could hear his awful rhymes from here.

Geralt didn’t seem to take notice of the noise, though, instead chattering at Ciri. “Do you fight with a sword? That’s so cool! I want to be a knight when I grow up, and wield a sword just like you!” He made dramatic slashing motions with his arm, nowhere near what proper form actually looked like, but it made Ciri giggle. 

“I’m sure you’ll be an excellent swordsman,” she said, and the child who was once Geralt beamed a grin at them so bright that Yennefer had to turn away.

She’d never seen happiness on Geralt that wasn’t tainted by pain and darkness. It hurt to see it now and know that life had stolen that from him.

“Oh, you’re back!” Jaskier leapt to his feet, setting his lute aside. He hadn’t noticed there was anything amiss yet, but that would change soon because Geralt’s excited young eyes landed on the instrument and he was dashing forward, mouth already moving.

“Was that you playing? You’re really good! Could you show me how to do that? It looks fun, but hard. Is it hard?”

Jaskier blinked, gobsmacked. Then he turned wide eyes to meet Yennefer’s and she grimaced in confirmation. “Jaskier, meet Geralt.”

“Geralt,” the bard croaked, his famed voice cracking on the word. He stared down at the sandy-haired boy whose attention had already moved onto the next thing, wandering around their camp and touching absolutely everything. “I think I need a bit more explanation,” Jaskier asked plaintively, and Yennefer took pity. 

“The mage got away,” she said quietly, watching Geralt. She wasn’t the only one.

“And he – I mean, will he...get better? Can we break the curse?”

Yennefer shook her head. She’d been contemplating that since she felt the magic coalesce around Geralt, had been feeling out the edges of it as they walked. “I can’t,” she admitted reluctantly. “I need to do more research, but I don’t think this curse can be broken. It has to be waited out.”

“But it’s not permanent.” Ciri’s voice was shaky and her words came out more as a demand than a question.

“No, it should fade within a week.” Yennefer said.  _ Should _ being the operative word, but she wasn’t willing to trust Geralt’s fate to  _ should. _

This would require research and study. But first, they had to take care of the previously self-sufficient witcher. What did children even need? Ciri had been older than this when she’d come to Yenn and Geralt, and Yennefer hated to admit it, but it had been a  _ long _ time since she’d been around young children.

Geralt’s exploration of their camp had now brought him to Roach, and apparently he was a natural horse whisperer. Roach snorted and lipped at his hair as the boy nuzzled into her neck and murmured praise without seeming to stop for breath.

“Do you travel all the time too?” The high-pitched timbre of Geralt’s voice still startled Yennefer, even though he was already talking as much as Jaskier on a good day. “Ma and I have been on the road for ages now. It’s kinda weird – the elders used to say that druids have to stay close to home, because of magic or something. But Ma’s magic is as strong as ever, so I think they were just talking. Can you do magic? I hope I can! I’m not old enough for the test yet – and I dunno what Ma’s gonna do about that. Maybe we’ll go back home before the test when it’s time!”

“Test?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt was distracted from responding by a passing butterfly and he took off after it, trying to clasp it between clumsy hands. They all watched him with varying consternated expressions on their faces. This was  _ weird. _

“Druids are tested for magic when they’re ten,” Ciri answered eventually. “Mousesack taught me. Said it was important that a Princess understood different cultures. But I didn’t know Geralt was a druid.” Her brows knit as she followed the wild boy with her gaze. “Though, I suppose our Geralt doesn’t consider himself one anymore.”

“He’s never talked about his life before becoming a Witcher,” Jaskier said. The concern on his face made him look constipated. “I didn’t – I wouldn’t have thought he’d be like this.”

No, Yennefer thought. She doubted any who knew Geralt would have guessed that he’d once been so – maybe innocent was the right word for it. Excitable.  _ Childish.  _

For some reason, it had never occurred to her that Geralt had once truly been a child. If she had, she probably would have expected that he’d always been like her, braced against the pain of the world.

_ “Does _ he have magic?” Jaskier suddenly asked. “I mean, our Geralt has his signs, but that’s a Witcher thing, right? What if he has actual magic – like yours?”

Yennefer shook her head. “Druid magic is nothing like mine.” And if there was a snideness in her voice, it was only appropriate. Everyone knew druidic magic was pathetic compared to the power of a mage. “But if he hasn’t been tested yet, then we probably have nothing to worry about.”

“Probably,” Jaskier mocking mumble was low enough that she could pretend to ignore it. But because Yennefer could never let anything go, she flicked her fingers and magicked an ice cube into existence right above the collar of his doublet. The bard’s squawk and dance as he tried to get away from the cold dripping down his back was immensely satisfying, and made Ciri  _ and _ Geralt laugh to boot. 

She could see the high, joyous sound of Geralt’s giggles make Jaskier’s irritation melt away. “How would you like to hear a story?” the bard offered his unusually-attentive companion.

“Do you know anything about what’s beyond the Edge of the World?” Geralt asked eagerly, “or what the other spheres are like? Ma never answers when I ask about them, but I wanna knoooooow,” he dragged out the last word in a whine and Yennefer had to bite her lip hard to hold back her smile.

Jaskier tilted his head. “I’ve been to the Edge of the World, actually! With – uh, well, a good friend. Do you want to hear about it?”

Geralt’s headed nodded so furiously Yennefer was briefly worried he would sprain his neck. He plopped to the ground in front of Jaskier and leaned forward with bright eyes. Ciri – truly still a child at heart, even if the world had forced her to grow up so fast – gracefully dropped down into a cross legged seat beside him. As Jaskier told his tale – wildly inaccurate and horribly failing to remember not to call his companion Geralt – the boy slowly edged closer to Ciri until he wiggled his way into her lap. Ciri looked positively gobsmacked and Yennefer turned her laugh into a subtle cough. Geralt squirmed, getting comfortable even though he was probably a bit too big to really fit in Ciri’s lap, and the princess hesitantly wrapped her arms around him, tucking his head under her chin.

They listened to as one story turned to three, and then Geralt was telling his own wildly inventive story about noble knights on white steeds fighting for good and right. Yenn’s smile finally broke through, but it felt tight and prickly. If only the world was as simple and good as this child believed.

––

Jaskier couldn’t help the way he stared at the boy that had previously been his best-friend-and-more. Logically, he’d always known that there must have been a time when Geralt was different, before the trauma of becoming a Witcher. But he’d never thought he would  _ see  _ it, never thought he would be brought face to face with the sweet boy that life had beaten into a quiet, reticent man. 

The boy talked so much, and Jaskier kept him engaged for hours, chatting about anything and everything. And even though running his mouth had never been a problem for Jaskier before, he kept getting distracted by the occasional sign of their Geralt within the child. The boy got bored with his distraction and Jaskier could see Geralt in the way the kid swung a stick around with loud “ha!”s as he stabbed the air, the way the corners of his eyes wrinkled in a smile in the exact same way, even though everything else about his face was different. Even the way he looked at Ciri, awed and admiring and with such affection that Jaskier knew the girl was overwhelmed. Nonetheless, she picked up her own stick and encouraged the boy to charge at her, sloppily parrying the attack with the stick. They entertained themselves “sword fighting” and Yennefer came to sit next to him. She looked composed as ever, but from the way she pressed her shoulder against his, Jaskier knew this was freaking her out just as much.

“What do we do?” he whispered.

Yenn shook her head. “I don’t know. Of all the things we could have prepared for, never saw this coming.”

“He’s so…” Jaskier trailed off, not even sure how he’d planned on ending that sentence. Innocent? Sweet? A long-dead part of their lover’s life that they were being granted access to? Jaskier wasn’t sure yet whether that was a blessing or a curse.

Geralt would never have told them about this boy he used to be, given the choice. And it broke Jaskier’s heart to know that this bright young child – so curious about the world and so eager to make friends with everything that moved – would suffer all the things he knew Geralt had gone through.

And all the things he didn’t know. Geralt had never told them anything about becoming a Witcher, except to whisper in a hoarse voice that they could not do that to Ciri. All Jaskier knew was that it had been  _ bad.  _

“Is he – you said we have to wait for this to fade. Do you think he’ll remember this when he comes back?”

Yennefer rubbed her fingers in circles on each side of her brow, and Jaskier’s hand automatically rose to squeeze at the base of her neck, where her muscles grew tight from stress and made her head ache. She leaned back into him and sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t like how much I don’t know about this. I think we need to hunt down that damn mage and find out everything they know about this curse.”

“Okay. But also, how do we keep a little kid alive?” Not that Jaskier was panicking or anything. But his experience with children was usually limited to making faces and playing jaunty tunes when he ran into them in public. 

Sure, Ciri was still pretty young, but she’d lived through too much to be thought of as a child. At least, not the same kind of child that Geralt currently was – helpless in the face of danger and far too curious to keep himself safe. Jaskier recognized the signs easily – they were the same traits that Geralt often cursed in himself. Not that  _ he _ was a child, or really entirely helpless – Jaskier was going on five decades; he knew how to throw a punch, thank you very much! – but it was true that he often relied more on luck and Geralt to keep him safe than anything else.

It was a strategy that hadn’t failed him yet, but he was an educated, experienced adult. If nothing else, he stood a decent chance of talking himself out of any trouble he might run into. But this small inquisitive boy, who talked about magic and dragons and knights as if life were one big fairy tale? Were they really going to be able to keep him safe while hunting down a mage on the road? 

Yennefer was terrifyingly powerful, of course, and Ciri was no slouch with a blade, though their usual Geralt still gruffly rumbled that she had more to learn. But the mage had gotten past them  _ and _ Geralt once already, and travel had become so much more dangerous since the start of the war. Even when they took the main roads, a day rarely passed without some necrophage or bandit attacking them. He himself had honestly gotten a lot more wary about traveling alone, though their Geralt would no doubt argue that that wariness didn’t stop him from getting into trouble.

All he could really do was hope that they would be able to protect this innocent child from the horrors of the world. Jaskier had wanted to protect Geralt from the world’s cruelties many times, but it had never felt quite this urgent before. Their Geralt was so hurt and so world-weary already – the need to protect him ached deep in Jaskier’s heart, twisted with sorrow that Geralt had been through so much. But this feeling, the anxiety creeping up his spine and the knot of cotton in his throat was different from that. Jaskier wanted to be able to protect this child the way Geralt  _ should _ have been protected, if the world had ever been fair. 

At the same time, the void in his gut desperately wished that their Geralt was here. He would know what to do, would know how to protect a child. Of all of them, Geralt was actually the best with children, as long as they didn’t fear him. And Geralt  _ liked _ children in a way Jaskier just honestly didn’t. He wasn’t the sort of asshole who hated kids, but anyone with sense would never leave him responsible for a child. Even  _ he _ knew that was a bad idea.

“Breathe, bard,” Yennefer’s smoky voice ordered and only when he inhaled sharply did Jaskier realize that he’d been hyperventilating. “We’ll figure this out. We’ll protect him.”

And although he knew Yennefer was just as terrified as he was under her calm exterior, the steel in her voice helped him feel grounded. This situation may have been far from ideal, but if anyone could keep Geralt safe, it would be the most powerful sorceress on the continent and the witcher cub trained by Geralt himself. And maybe Jaskier didn’t know this Geralt, who was so young and so  _ open,  _ but he still knew Geralt at his core. Their Geralt would never run around with a bucket on his head pretending to be a knight, but Jaskier knew that the same nobility that this child saw in knighthood ran deep in Geralt’s veins. More than anything, Geralt was  _ good _ and noble and honorable, despite the world chipping at him constantly. This child may look and act different, but he was still Geralt.

Jaskier took a deep breath and released it slowly. They were going to be okay. Somehow. They were going to keep this kid safe until they got their Geralt back, and they were going to find that mage and make sure they got their Geralt back  _ soon. _

Jaskier swallowed and knocked his shoulder against Yenn’s. “Kids have bedtimes, don’t they? Maybe we should set him up in your ridiculously fancy tent.”

“You love my tent.”

“Never said I didn’t. I’m a slut for luxury. But you literally fit a bathtub in your tent, Yenn. It’s ridiculous.” A smile tugged at his lips and he remembered just how much they had enjoyed that copper tub in the past.

Of course, now they had children. Even after two years, Jaskier still struggled to remember that he really shouldn’t just walk around shirtless with love bites proudly on display. Fortunately, Yenn had magically given Ciri her own room in the tent. Unfortunately, the room was not soundproofed.

It was a good thing Geralt was a lot more conscientious than Jaskier was, honestly. Ciri might not have much innocence left, but no one wanted to walk in on their parents fucking. 

Jaskier shuddered and tried to refocus. “Is it weird if he sleeps in our bed? Weirder than if he stays in Ciri’s?”

Yennefer shrugged. “He might be young enough to want someone he trusts around, or he might be independent enough that he’ll refuse to share. Only one way to find out.”

When they got Geralt to sit down for five minutes to actually eat dinner and then guided him into the tent, the look of wide-eyed wonder made Jaskier melt. “So cool!!” Geralt exclaimed and wiggled out from under the grip on his shoulders to race around the tent. “Ma’s magic is amazing, but it’s nothing like this!! She mostly just conjures us food. But I bet you never sleep in the hay!” He jumped on the gigantic bed in their room and let out a deep contented sigh, as if the world was utterly perfect at this moment. “It feels like a cloud,” he whispered. “I’m never moving.”

Jaskier had to laugh at that. “How about you get  _ under _ the covers before you never move again, hmm?”

Geralt hummed and wiggled around until Jaskier and Yennefer were able to pull the blankets out from under him and tuck him in. Ciri hovered in the doorway, shifting her weight awkwardly from foot to foot.

“Ciri?” Yennefer asked, and the girl jumped as if she’d forgotten they could see her.

“Can I – I mean,” she scratched her arm and looked at the ground, “it’s hard to believe he’s okay,” Ciri whispered so quietly that Jaskier had to step closer to her to hear. “I don’t wanna let him out of my sight.”

“Yeah,” Jaskier said pointlessly.

“Come on,” Yennefer beckoned them over to the bed. “There’s room for all of us.”

There hadn’t been, actually, but the bed magically expanded to be as big as they needed it to be.

Ciri huffed a laugh and pulled back the covers to wiggle in next to Geralt. “I used to have sleepovers with my friends in Cintra sometimes. This is kinda like that. But comfier.”

Yenn’s expression didn’t change, but Jaskier knew she was preening that her magic could make a more comfortable bed than all the royal power of Cintra. He shook his head and circled around the bed to his side. 

He was still worried about Geralt, and as nice as it was to be cuddled up with his family, he missed the warmth of  _ their  _ Geralt pressed against his back. The way Yenn’s arm stretched over the kids to wrap around Jaskier’s wrist told him she missed having Geralt between them too. She liked to hold them, liked to make sure they wouldn’t disappear in the night, but somehow it was less comforting when one of them was already missing, even though he technically still rested between them. Eventually, they each drifted off to sleep.

Then the nightmares started.


End file.
